


Bruised knuckles, heavy breaths

by putputpotato



Series: Putputpotato´s smut collection [4]
Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Anal Sex, Bottom Mark Lee (NCT), Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Feelings, Fight Club - Freeform, Fluff, Hybrids, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Top Lee Taeyong, but not really, it´s because Tae is a dog hybrid, lots of feelings, or not so alternate lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27491221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putputpotato/pseuds/putputpotato
Summary: The prices they pay, in order to survive are greater than most can imagine.But Mark and Taeyong will do anything, if it means they get another day together.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Lee Taeyong
Series: Putputpotato´s smut collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112174
Comments: 8
Kudos: 119





	Bruised knuckles, heavy breaths

**Author's Note:**

> [ Official Artwork thread](https://twitter.com/putputpotato/status/1326187644632657920?s=20)
> 
> [Song Track #1](https://open.spotify.com/track/5kJnMbsCBwvQKswaQIFa6X?si=yGDhw3dWTN22dIxSS2mMwA)  
> [Song Track #2](https://open.spotify.com/track/7clKYc0HOXjHItwXVdkiKA?si=j-ofkZy9ShKAbTiSu3OlwQ)  
> [Song Track #3](https://open.spotify.com/track/6q6QN3nlvK2OTaHITi4dq2?si=l19CVxiVSlG5WZscykqAyw)
> 
> More chit-chat and nonsense in the end notes! Enjoy my lovelies <3

The lights are bright and glaring, causing Mark's eyes to burn even more than they already do. He is tired as hell, feet barely lifting off the floor, as he pushes past several bodies. And the noise, doesn't really help either. All around him, people are shouting and screaming, trying to cheer for their favourites, as they rip each other open in the brawling ring. A meagre construction, consisting of an estranged skating-pool and metre high grates, all the way up, towards a ceiling Mark can't even see anymore.

Someone shoves at him on accident and he pulls his shoulders up, trying to ignore every fibre in his body. They call for him to run. Run as far as possible and never return to this godforsaken place. But he has to be here. Just like most of the other people around him.

They are almost primitive about it – the spectacle that unfolds at the bottom of the brawling pit. Clawing at the iron grates, yelling their heart out and with blood hunger in their eyes. Still, they pretend like they are more human than those creatures, forced to kill each other down in the brawling pit. His eyes hush across the event, catching a hint of orange fur and a pair of thick horns. A fox and a bull today. That hardly seems fair.

A warm touch settles on his waist and he jumps slightly. However, as soon as a gentle nose pokes at his nape, he forces himself to relax. His hand closes around the wrist at his waist and he pulls the other further through the crowd. Soon, they reach a secluded area, with a duo of beefy guys guarding the front. One of them gives him a scrutinizing look, but the other snorts in recognition.

"Let him through. That's the kid and his Mad Dog."

Ignoring the bemused laughter the two exchange, Mark steps right past them. They are unimportant, almost as much as their approval. He isn't here for tiny silver-fishes. He wants the big price. Because, anything else would not be worth stepping into this hell hole whatsoever.

The boy behind him halts for a moment, Mark's hand around his wrist, causing him to stumble backward. Mark finds his eyes – finds no insecurity, no fear. Just worry.

"I know you don't like him." Mark sighs, "Neither do I. But we have to talk to him, if we want the cash that we came for."

The dog-ears on top of the boy's head twitch, but he stays silent. Instead of keeping his wrist in Mark's hold, he untangles himself and intertwines their fingers. For a moment, Mark considers pulling away. Not, because he doesn't want it to be like this, though. There are too many eyes watching, too many hungry minds that wait for an opportunity to strike at him. Make him tumble. He won't let them, so he pulls the other's scarred knuckles to his lips, presses a kiss into them and pulls away.

"Stay close to me, Taeyong." The hybrid-boy nods.

Together, the two shuffle through a slim passage way, only illuminated by the broken lights of exit-signs. Behind a couple of doors, Mark hears ominous sounds, some sounding pleasured, some sounding pained and some... some sounding like there is nothing left to save.

Behind the door at the end of the hall, a wide room opens up to them. It's a lot more clean and high-end than the rest of the fight club, but only because this is where the important people get invited to. Mark isn't important. But the boy behind him – the boy who wears scar tissue, over more scar tissue and has his pointed dog-ears covered in small slits – he is important.

There are only a couple of people in the room: mostly bodyguards and staff, who carry around all sorts of delicious smelling food, on ridiculously clean tablets. Mark ignores them and heads right for the middle of the room. A square of couches has been arranged within the space, all of them designed with intricate backrests and blood-red cushions. The table between them is covered in all sorts of treats and fruits; Pudding, cake, grapes, strawberries and a lot more. Mark's stomach gives a growl of interest, but he refuses to indulge in this sort of luxury, when he knows where it comes from.

Sprawled over the length of the largest couch, with two leopard hybrids clinging to his sides, lies Doyoung. His silken evening gown glimmers in the bright, orange lights around him and there is gorgeous embroidery woven into the fabric of his sleeves, with golden string. The fabric lies open, revealing a smooth chest that has never had to endure a trace of harm. A smile plays with his lips, as he lets one of the Leopard-hybrids feed him a grape.

Mark clears his throat, but the man doesn't give him the attention he wants right away. A game, of course, to confuse him and make him nervous.

Jokes on him, Mark is always nervous.

"I was wondering when you'd show up again." Doyoung finally says, running a delicate finger along one of the hybrid's collar bones. They are both dressed so scarcely, it barely counts as clothing at all. Mark keeps his eyes trained on the man in front of him. "You and your little bloodhound. So, what brings you to my noble establishment?"

"We want a fight." Mark demands, "Tonight. Just one, but one that makes cash."

If Doyoung were a hybrid, there is no doubt he would snarl in that moment, "Look at this brat, walking in here and demanding everyone do his bidding. I don't have a fight for you tonight, kid." He raises a glass, filled with a deep red liquid to his lips and adds: "At least, not one your puppy is gonna survive."

Behind him, Taeyong huffs in anger, but Mark puts a hand on his collar, just to calm him down, "Who are we talking about?"

"Well, I've got myself a new champion. After... you came and broke the old one." Mark tenses at the distaste in Doyoung's voice. He doesn't like to remember that night, with all the wounds he had to disinfect and patch up, all the cuts he had to stitch, one of them way too close to Taeyong's neck. Doyoung purses his lips, "I've got a nicer one now, though. A grizzly. He could pulverize your guard dog between his thumb and index finger. Bout twice his size, too." He grins, "Fucks a lot better than the old one, too."

A growl sounds, low but simmering in Taeyong's throat and Mark tightens his hold on the collar. There is nothing he hates more than listening to anyone talk about his kind like this and Mark understands it. But they can't afford to start a fight. Not now and not here. The growl breaks off and Taeyong bows his head in silent obedience.

"How much?" Mark asks.

"Eight-fifty."

His jaw clenches. 850 dollars could at least get them through for another three months, before they have to return again. A whole three months for Taeyong to recover. Usually, they have to settle with 200 and call it a night, only to return the next month. The only person who hates being here more than Mark does, is Taeyong. But they are here. They are here, because they need to survive. And together, they finally got a chance to do so.

He looks at Taeyong. Those bright, amber-coloured eyes stare right back at him and Mark could never begin to count all the emotions he finds in them.

It's risky. If they aren't careful, this could be Taeyong's last night. And they both know that means it would be Mark's last night, too. Even if the rules say that a knock-out means a win, they aren't at the WBA. Why knock out your enemy, when you can just bite through his throat and make absolutely sure he doesn´t get up again? In a place like this, where a dead hybrid's body gets dumped somewhere, in a random waste container, no one cares how much blood flows throughout a fight.

Taeyong knows all of this, but he looks at Mark, calm as the sea. They have always lived their lives on the edge of a cliff, balancing for another breath. It's okay, because they were lost long ago. Two souls that have stopped living at an uncertain point, too caught up with surviving instead.

Mark turns back to Doyoung, "Deal."

Straightening, Doyoung pushes the two Leopard-hybrids off of him and stares at him in astonishment, "Aren't you tired of life. See, this is what I always appreciated the most about you, taking more chances than you take breaths everyday." With a pleased smirk, Doyoung waves over one of his bodyguards and says: "Tell Yuta to get Johnny ready. And I want Donghyuck for the presentation today."

The man nods and rushes off towards the door Mark and Taeyong had come through. Picking another grape from the table, Doyoung musters them with curious eyes, "This is going to be fun."

\--*--

It's dark and the white noise of the crowd is dimmed down enough for Mark to hear his own breath again. Taeyong stands in front of him, only a shy distance away from touching him. They find themselves in a dark corridor, with only one door on each end. One, they had just come through, which is their last chance to turn back. The other... leading towards a future filled with uncertainty and violence.

"Hey. Taeyong." Mark mutters, finding the hybrid's eyes cast to the ground, "Look at me."

Those bright eyes raise, to find his and Mark feels his heart beat faster. He is scared of so many things everyday, but nothing beats the fear he feels at the prospect of losing the boy in front of him. Gently, he traces his fingers over Taeyong's cheek, waiting for his shoulders to relax. As he leans into it, Taeyong's eyes fall shut and Mark understands that he is trying to internalize the feeling.

"Listen." Taeyong's dog ears perk up, "Be careful, okay? Your enemy might be bigger, but you're faster and smarter. Don't strike, unless you know it's gonna do damage, yeah? Don't take chances – dodge everything that comes your way, even if it's a bluff. You can do this. Just-..." He hates the tears that prod at his eyes, so he pulls Taeyong in by the nape and pushes their foreheads together, to hide them, "Don't die. Don't you fucking dare die."

A soft voice, barely used, whispers: "I won't."

"Okay... Yeah, okay." Nodding more to himself than the other, Mark allows himself a few inhales of Taeyong's breath, "I'm... I'm right behind you, okay? I won't let them take you from me."

At that, Taeyong's fingers wrap around the fabric of his shirt. They pull, careful, not demanding, because in his book, Mark is the Alpha. It's more of a plea than anything and Mark is too far of a goner, to refuse it. His hands cup the hybrid's face, wary of growing too rough, and pull him closer. Taeyong's frame is steady and perfect against his – too perfect for it to go to waste now. Mark knows there will never be another body that fits against his as well, another mind that links with his as well, another heart that beats in sync with his own as well.

The second Taeyong has his approval, he wastes no time in kissing Mark, as if to steal all of his air. Mewling softly, Mark lets himself be overwhelmed. Taeyong's soft lips are divine against his own, chapped ones. His hands grip Mark's waist with just the right pressure, to feel like he belongs and the desire with which he pushes his tongue against Mark's makes him think he could be swallowed whole. And he wouldn't object it, even for a second. Maybe, like this they could morph into one at last.

A blaring siren drowns out the little moan Mark releases and the moment is broken. They separate with a flush to their lips and a bitter tinge of despair tugging at their hearts. It never gets easier – to let go of Taeyong's hand and let him walk towards the door that opens to a blinding, white light. Almost like dying, his mind supplies and he is tempted to hit the thought right out of his skull.

Above him, a nasal voice announces: "And in the left corner, Ladies and Gentlemen: Mad Dog!!" The crowd cheers and screams and Mark feels sick to his stomach. Like a lightning, he exits through the other door and pushes through the crowd that has gathered around the brawling area. An elbow hits him square in the face, but he doesn't give a damn, when he can see the person, facing Taeyong from the opposite end of the pit.

'Johnny' is a good 2 metres tall and more muscle than bone. His fists, big enough to crush Mark's skull, are wrapped in bandages and there is a nasty scar running from his temple, to the back of his head. Brown ears stick out from his mob of hair, one of which is mangled into a state, where it doesn't even look like an ear anymore. Taeyong stands straight, with his eyes trained on his enemy and Mark realizes with a wave of panic that his face barely reaches Johnny's chin.

On the other side of the pit, a platform with wide windows looms above the crowd. Mark can see Donghyuck, sitting at his desk and yelling the protocol of the two hybrids into his microphone. Next to him, stands Doyoung, still in his gown and smirking slightly. Past the distance, their gazes meet and Mark's fingers wrap tight around the fencing.

"Are you ready, fighters?" Johnny's hands lift into the air and the crowd goes wild. Taeyong raises his chin a little, but remains motionless otherwise, "Alright then: remember, this is a fight for honour. Don't let your enemy be the victor, no matter what it takes. Now... FIGHT!"

A shrill gong sounds and Johnny sets into motion. Immediately, Mark feels his breath speed up, as he watches Taeyong's still frame. The taller pulls his hand back for a brutal swing, but Taeyong saw it years ago. He dives under the swing and rolls over the dirty ground, out of reach. Mark watches Johnny then, his large frame and heavy movements. At least Taeyong keeps the advantage of being faster, that might be what saves his ass. Johnny is all brute force and strength, no flexibility, or agility like Taeyong's. However, one single hit could be enough to break Taeyong's bones. The stakes are high.

"Are you going to be okay little doggie?" Donghyuck coos through his microphone, "Johnny might accidentally step on you! What a boring fight that would be."

He is trying to get Taeyong worked up. Throw words of humiliation at him, to have his emotions take over and make him careless. Must have been Doyoung's order. But Taeyong knows better. After having spent so many months fighting in arenas like this, he has created himself an unbreakable strategy. He had told Mark about it before: how he stops seeing and hearing anything, but his enemy. How his emotions shut off completely and he relies on nothing but his intuition and his reflexes.

Right now, that seems to work perfectly, because he doesn't stutter, when he dodges another one of Johnny's charged swings. The more hits he dodges, the more anger Johnny seems to put into his attacks. It feels like Russian roulette. How every swing contains more potential damage and how it's only a question of time, until one of them will find their aim.

It does in the worst way possible. One second of hesitation and Taeyong isn't fast enough. Mark can't even blink and suddenly, the boy is on the ground, trying to push himself up on his hands and knees. Johnny is too busy celebrating the punch, by raising his fists with pride. The metal of the grating digs into his palm, when Mark sees Taeyong spit blood onto the floor.

"Oh-oh! Looks like someone caught a shiner." Donghyuck says, "Come on puppy, you can do better than that, can't you?"

Yes, of course he can. Looking positively annoyed, Taeyong pushes himself back to his feet, spitting more blood to his feet. There is a trail of it, running down from the corner of his mouth, but he pays it no mind. All his focus is back on Johnny and Mark knows, this time he will strike.

It comes in the form of a jump, only a few dodged attacks later. Taeyong manages to escape a choke hold and dive behind Johnny's large shoulders. His nails are out, sharp and wicked, as they trail deep cuts down Johnny's back. They rip through clothes, skin and flesh, like butter and Johnny throws his head back with a pained howl. Luckily, Taeyong backs away, just in time to avoid getting sliced open, as the grizzly-hybrid lashes out behind himself.

"Come on Tae." Mark whispers, pressing his face against the railing.

"Could it be? Johnny-boy you better watch your back there, this one is a dirty player."

Sneering at the shorter man, Johnny lashes out once more, his fingers catching on Taeyong's shirt. It rips a little under the force, as Johnny uses it to throw Taeyong across the pit. His lithe body crashes into the stone, sure to leave bruises upon bruises for the following morning. But again, he stumbles to his feet. It looks like the impact disoriented him and when Johnny reaches out for his hair, he isn't quite fast enough to escape.

Johnny's canines are terrifying and gleaming under the spotlights, as they go for Taeyong's neck. The smaller struggles against the grip in his hair and slices his nails through Johnny's wrist. It draws blood and the grizzly hybrid is forced to let him go, as his tendon gets damaged. Taeyong's chest is jerking hard and fast, as he pants and tries to get himself to safety.  
Johnny's hand hangs limply at his side, but Mark isn't so naïve to think that's all it takes to incapacitate him. Taeyong backs away further and further, as his enemy closes in on him and his eyes hush around, searching. For a weak-spot, an escape, a chance... anything at all.

Mark sees the exact moment Taeyong finds what he had looked for. Suddenly, his eyes turn calm, his shoulders fall and, even though he is still panting, the stress and fear have left his posture.

Donghyuck's microphone crackles, "Seems like our Mad Dog has found himself in a dead-end."

Mark, despite everything, smiles to himself. It's what they're supposed to believe. It's what Johnny is supposed to believe, what Doyoung is supposed to believe, what the crowd is supposed to believe. It's what they are all supposed to believe and Mark is the only one who knows better. Because, whenever Taeyong's cards seem to be the worst they could be, in reality, he has a row of aces. A master at bluffing. A trickster that had used his mind, more than his body to win and survive in a messed up world like this.

With his healthy hand, Johnny lashes out at him, but now that he has a dead-spot, Taeyong has enough space to slip past him and corner him face-first into the wall. In his way, Taeyong's claws slice through Johnny's thigh, making him wobble and it only takes a good kick to the inside of his knee, to bring him down enough. Now, Taeyong looms over him, the tables turned. He strikes out and swings his foot right against the side of Johnny's pain-distorted face. One well-aimed kick and Johnny falls – unconscious on the stone.

An eerie silence stretches, before the crowd goes animalistic. Donghyuck yells into his microphone, suddenly happy to celebrate Taeyong in his victory. Mark can't help, but inhale sharply, all the pent up anxiety coming to bite him in the ass. He doesn't spare Doyoung's angry face a glance, instead wipes at his eyes and pushes through the crowd once again. Taeyong is in his arms, as soon as he breaks through the door that connects to the arena.

He smells of blood and sweat, but Mark pulls him as tight against him as he possibly can. Beneath the dirt he still smells Taeyong's own scent. Not even the blood that trickles from Taeyong's nose and onto Mark's shirt can stop him from giving him another deep kiss. Taeyong reciprocates, weak, but needy.

"Come on, let's get our money and then get the hell out of here." Mark mutters and Taeyong agrees with a nod.

They make their way through the crowd, some people reaching out to touch Taeyong as he passes. Mark makes sure to shove them all away, as the older clings to his shirt. At least the spikes on his collar prevent everyone from touching his neck. Something, only Mark is allowed to do, no one else.

Before they can make it to Doyoung's office though, a hand on his chest stops him, "Not so fast there."

"Let us through, we need to talk to Doyoung." Mark says.

The man who stopped him – a large bulldozer-type with tattoos on his arms, shakes his head, "I'm pretty sure Doyoung doesn't want to talk to you, though."

"We won the fight, fair and square. Doyoung made a deal with us." His own patience is wearing thin. An itch fills his fingers to pull Taeyong home and keep him safe from all the terrible things that still lurk around these shadows, "Look man, just give us the cash and we'll be out of here."

Cracking his knuckles, the man steps a little closer, "I think you and your dog-boy need a little more respect. Especially, after damaging Doyoung's goods."

Taeyong snarls at the choice of words and Mark can feel his own blood simmer, "Let us through." he repeats.

Around them, the crowd's attention has shifted to their exchange. Countless eyes are fixated on him and Taeyong; hoping for more spectacles, more blood, more entertainment. The man takes another step towards him and, before Mark can speak up, Taeyong has already pushed himself between them. He growls, deep in his throat and the man actually backs away. Mark's fingers are in Taeyong's collar, before he can even think about it. No matter what, he will not risk Taeyong getting into another fight and hurting himself even more.

"Let's see how tough your ankle-biter is against an iron rod, huh?"

Mark only sees metal gleam. A short flash of reflected spot light, as the man swings. There is no time for hesitation, no time for taking any more chances. He pushes Taeyong aside, getting into the line of the rod and squeezes his eyes shut. There is no way he can brace himself for what comes next, but Taeyong will defend him, when he goes down. He will-

"That should be quite enough."

The iron rod halts in the middle of the air, a shy centimetre from Mark's eye. Everyone's heads turn, as Doyoung steps through the crowd. They part for him, as if he was a king and they were the unworthy servants, unallowed to touch. Doyoung's eyes are dark and unamused, but there is no heat to them. Only exasperation.

Mark gulps down the fear he had felt and says: "You owe us 850 bucks."

"You owe me two hybrids." Doyoung snaps.

"I don't owe you shit." At least with Doyoung, Mark has learned to not let his nerves show anymore, "Taeyong won the fight. You made a deal."

Huffing, Doyoung reaches out a hand. One of the Leopard Hybrids hurries ahead and places a package in his hand. Without sparing her a glance, Doyoung stretches the little thing out, to be taken.

However, before Mark can close his fingers around the money, he jerks it back and says: "You and your mutt are banned from here. There are other fight clubs, where you can earn yourself a bad reputation, I've had enough of you two."

Pulling the money from Doyoung's hand, Mark blindly reaches out for Taeyong. Somehow, not having Doyoung in his line of sight makes him too nervous, "Don't worry. You're not gonna see us again."

"Good."

As soon as Doyoung has turned his back on them, Mark makes sure to drag Taeyong out of the building. In their passing, Taeyong snarls at the tattoo-guy, but Mark yanks at his collar to make him shut up. It's necessary sometimes – to get a little strict, or a little rough with him. Especially, after fights, when his adrenaline kicks high and his dog takes over. In a way, Mark has to establish that he is the Alpha, even when they have only ever really come to blows once. Despite releasing another tiny growl, Taeyong folds his dog-ears against his head and follows Mark's pull out of the club.

The night is cool and rain trickles from the sky. Mark wishes he could breathe in and feel the refreshing clarity of the nightair in his lungs. However, in the middle of the city, where houses had been built upon more houses a long time ago, a gulp of fresh air is far away. The neon lights all around them showcase noodle-shops, more clubs and other dirty businesses, Mark doesn't want to get involved with. They sparkle in the puddles of rain on the concrete, in a way that would be beautiful, weren't it for the concrete towers all around them.

Burying the money deep in his jacket-pocket, Mark turns to face Taeyong. The man's dog-ears are still clamped tight into his hair and when Mark reaches out to touch him, he huffs.

"Don't give me that behaviour now." Mark chides, "Can you walk?"

Nodding, Taeyong lets himself be guided through the streets. They are slim most of the time, not even wide enough to fit a car. Mark knows them like the back of his hand by now, but he knows Taeyong still gets scared of getting lost. And rightfully so, it's not safe around the city for a hybrid who is all on his own. Just thinking of the rumours Mark has heard about all sorts of hybrids disappearing is enough to hunt a shiver down his spine. He glances back at Taeyong. If anything like that ever happened to the man, Mark knows neither of them would recover from it. And they managed to recover from _a lot_ of things.

Taeyong is silent throughout the whole walk, moping about Mark's strict moment, as he likes to do everytime. He doesn't mind. Ever since they met, Taeyong has never been much of a talker and, despite Mark's beliefs, that hadn't changed. Maybe, because the hybrid-boy knows how to convey his emotions with gazes and touches, much rather than actual words. Mark has learned to read them, so he doesn't insist on Taeyong speaking up. Only when he has to – only when Mark _needs_ him to – or when Taeyong feels like, despite his efforts, what he wants to say hadn't reached Mark quite yet.

On their way, the two of them pass a handful of hybrid bars. There are a lot of establishments like this; where Hybrids are showcased and offered as entertainment. The rarer their kind, the higher the price. Taeyong had never been of the high-priced sort, born and raised as a roughed up, regular Terrier-hybrid. What he lacked in race though, he made up with ability. The only reason why Mark had to turn down offers to buy him off so many times, are the skills he brings into the ring. He had offers that could have covered a new apartment, a college tuition and maybe even a car.

He turned them down everytime.

"You're not my property to sell." He had told Taeyong one evening, when the boy had confronted him about it, "Besides... None of this could be worth as much to me as having you here."

Mark finds his hand wrap a little tighter around Taeyong's and the boy's ears perk up. To assure him, Mark sends a small smile over his shoulder and he relaxes again. There will never be a day, where Taeyong isn't worried about him – where he wouldn't put his life on the line, to keep him safe from danger. It's the dog inside of him, Mark knows that much, but he can't help, but imagine if it could be a different part of him, too.

Finally, they stop in front of a slim house, squished between a large hotel and another apartment-complex. They climb the stairs, since the elevator has been broken for the better half of a decade and, after unlocking their door on the third floor, Mark finally releases the sigh he had held in for the whole evening. It's quiet. Always is, in this ridiculously tiny apartment. Taeyong immediately heads for the mattress they have set up and Mark doesn't have the strength to stop him from dirtying the whole thing. He closes the door behind himself and dumps the cash on the only table in the room. Apart from that and the mattress, there is only a small built-in kitchen and a slim cupboard. It's what they can afford around here, so it has to make due.

The table is scattered with empty red bull bottles and a few food-wrappings. He had forgotten to clean that up from last night.

"Take your shirt off, Tae." he orders, gathering his first-aid equipment from the cupboard.

When he turns back to the hybrid boy, his shirt is already rumpled on the floor. Mark doesn't tell him to pick it up.

Sitting down in front of the other, Mark makes quick work of gathering the items he needs and locating all the wounds Taeyong has collected that evening. A few bruises along his abdomen, a cut on his lip, a few scratches along his nape. There is even a huge slash on his upper arm, still Taeyong only stares at the tiny window that illuminates the space. As if he feels none of it. Mark is afraid that might be the case. That Taeyong experienced so much harm, in times where they haven't even known each other, he has grown numb to it all. Keeping silent, Mark presses a sanitizing towel into the boy's wounds, cleaning them up.

"You've done well today." Mark admits and the only indicator that Taeyong heard him, is the gentle twitch of his dog-ears, "I'm very proud of you. I knew that you would do well, he didn't stand a chance. Such a strong pup." As Taeyong's chest puffs a little, Mark can't help the smile that tugs on his lips. However, when he has finished wrapping the last bandage around the other, the smile leaves again, "But you were also very careless." Taeyong's eyes widen in dismay, "You let yourself get carried away after the fight and challenged absolutely everyone around you. That wasn't just unnecessary, it was also dangerous and reckless."

As he usually likes to do, Taeyong leans in, to hide his face in his neck. It's like escaping the chiding words Mark has to tell him, like hiding from the stricter side of Mark. A required side – considering that otherwise Taeyong could have already either _gotten_ them killed or killed them himself, if he hadn't developed it. He doesn't like being strict with Taeyong. The way he always shrinks into himself, when Mark's voice grows a little harder, contrasts so hard with the boy who usually steps into the fight-rings that it's worrying. It's a reminder of all the things Taeyong had to endure, when they were still strangers.

He doesn't talk about it often. But Mark knows, from the way he sometimes twitches in alarm, when he moves too fast, to the nightmares that keep him thrashing in Mark's arms at night. Taeyong has seen a lot and everything he does, is just to defend himself. Picking a fight with everyone, before anyone else can pick a fight with him.

But Mark can't afford to soften right now. Not, when it's about keeping the animalistic part in Taeyong in check. So, he grabs a tight hold of Taeyong's collar and pulls him from his neck, to lock their gazes. Taeyong's breath speeds up a little, but his shoulders aren't tensed like he is ready to pounce. Something that Mark has never stopped looking for, despite knowing that Taeyong would never want to hurt him. There are just some parts of him that he has no control over and Mark will have to be the one to control them for him.

"You were wounded, Tae. That means you can't just go around and pick fights with people twice your size. We agreed that you only fight when you have to. You _promised_ me that." A lump builds in his throat, "What if someone decides to strike back, before I can stop you some day, huh? What if they hurt you so bad, you can't recover from it anymore? What if they kill you?" His breath gets stuck in his throat at the thought, so he takes a moment to collect himself. Deep breaths. If he needs to be respected, his voice has to be steady, "When a fight is over, you follow me, wherever I go and you don't attack anyone, unless I tell you to. I'm your alpha and you do what I say, understood?"

As Taeyong tries to gently wedge himself out of Mark's grip, he tightens his hold, " _Understood?_ " The boy stills, breathing slowing down a little, before he nods and Mark finally releases his collar. To his surprise, Taeyong doesn't rush off to mope in a corner of the room, as he usually does. Instead, he sits there and stares at Mark's lap. Mark doesn't know what he is thinking – doesn't know if he would even understand it, if Taeyong were to explain it.

Carefully, he reaches out, to take one of Taeyong's hands. The long claws that protrude from his nail beds are sharp, long and wicked. Mark has already collected a few scars from them, but never out of purpose. They were all accidents. Accidents from getting too carried away in pleasure and connection and _love._ Mark knows it very well, if he had claws like this, Taeyong would wear a couple of similar scars. He doesn't mind them. They are a sort of legacy, for the only moments where they could just dive into each other's closure and forget about all the ways in which they are considered wrong. Wrong for working together, wrong for living together, wrong for treating each other as equals.

Wrong for _loving_ each other.

"I'm just scared, Tae." Mark whispers, "What would I do without your dumb ass? You're the only thing I have that..." He stops, pressing his thumbs into Taeyong's palm. The other is watching him, no doubt, but Mark is too weak in his heart to look back. "I have nothing left, if you're gone. Please remember that... There is nothing in my life I value, except you. So please, for the love of god, be more mindful of what you do with your life. It's so much more precious than you might think." 

He bites back the tears, doesn't feel like he can afford them. His body is worn. He hasn't slept in two days and still, he feels wide awake. It's been like that for years, ever since he had been thrown out of his parents' home and been forced to survive on the streets. A shift at the soup-store next door doesn't have strange working hours, but pushing and hybrid fights do. He felt ready for the challenge, never sleeping anyways, but he decided that, if he was awake already, he'd at least be a hundred percent awake. He eyes the Red Bull cans on the table. At this rate, he won't make it past 35. But if he doesn't do it like this, he might not even make it past tomorrow.

What would he give for a warm bath right now. A warm bath, with Taeyong curling around his back and the hot water lulling him to sleep. Again, not something they can afford, but one can dream. For now, at least they have the electricity- and the water-bill covered for the next three months. One less thing to worry about.

A nudge at his chin draws Mark's attention back to Taeyong. The boy's face is only a hair's breadth away from his own; his large, amber eyes staring up at him. A smile twitches on his lips, when Taeyong bumps into his nose with his own. His familiar scent wavers around him and Mark can almost ignore the tinge of blood and sweat that comes with it. He smiles at the other. Tries to tell him it's alright – _they're_ alright. Because, if Mark believes it, Taeyong will believe it, too.

A puff of air hits his face, smelling of caramel. Mark's smile widens and his eyelids flutter. Usually, it's always him, who takes the first step, but he wants Taeyong to learn that he can take it, too. That it's okay for him to take a little from Mark's love, when there is already so much of it, waiting for him on a silver tablet. Only just before a fight, does Taeyong's adrenaline take over and he is the first one to make a move. But Mark doesn't just want him to feel like it's okay for him to get affection, when he might be about to die. Because, he deserves it at every waking moment. At every moment, Mark is there to provide it. For a few seconds, Taeyong grows restless. A steady cycle of leaning in and pulling back in the last second. Mark keeps smiling at him, trying to show his encouragement through the gaze he gives him.

The moment when Taeyong finally pushes over the edge isn't hard to decipher. It's a slight hitch in his breath, the light dilating of his pupils. Mark lets his eyes fall shut and when Taeyong's lips meet his own, he kisses back softly. For a kiss that is supposed to be filled with the want and passion Taeyong wants to convey, it's still very tame, but Mark is happy with what he gets. Baby steps. They will get there.

Cupping Taeyong's cheek, he takes over and leads the kiss, until Taeyong eases into him. Every now and then, the boy's canines get in the way and Mark can't help, but chuckle softly, whenever he feels them get stuck on his lips. Taeyong doesn't laugh – too caught up and entranced by the feeling of kissing the other. Mark knows in moments like this, he has to concentrate on keeping his animal-side under control. Then, there is nothing else for him to discern, except Mark. Taste and touch and smell and sound.

When Taeyong's hand pushes at Mark's shoulder, he understands what direction the night is going to take. There are days when Taeyong needs to be owned. Days, when he is the happiest, with Mark pressing him into the mattress and pounding into him, like the alpha he is supposed to be. But other times, he needs a safe space. Needs someone to trust him, someone who will let him into their arms and love him gentle and sweet. Mark shouldn't be surprised – it's often likes this, after he has been scolded.

 _There he goes again,_ his mind supplies, as Taeyong climbs on top of him, _always the same with you._

He likes to act exasperated, but really, Mark has absolutely no problem with kissing Taeyong until his breath runs out. When it does, Taeyong is still restless and trails gentle kisses over his cheeks, until they reach his jaw. There, they grow rougher – more insistent – and mix with less gentle bruises that he sucks into Mark's skin. They send tingles down Mark's spine, Taeyong knows how sensitive his neck is.

Especially the spot right at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, where a bite-shaped scar adorns his skin. It feels like jewellery, whenever he looks at it in the bathroom mirror. The reminder of Taeyong's claim, of the fact that he chose _Mark_ as his mate. A forever. Almost like a ring. But Mark isn't capable of leaving a mark like this, so there are two earrings for Taeyong instead; One in his human ear and one in his dog-ear. A sign of Mark's love for both of his sides.

The first gasp breaks out of him, when Taeyong's teeth graze the mark with more intent. Taeyong doesn't still in attention, instead adjusts them, so he can place his hips between Mark's legs. It's because this is something he knows. Something familiar. After much trial and error, they had figured this part out so well, even Taeyong knows what to do every moment. A fish in the water, just like when he fights and tricks his enemy every time.

Mark makes sure to move his hips in sync, when Taeyong begins to rut against him. His fingers tangle in the soft hair and scratch at the fluffy dog ears, until Taeyong's mouth opens with a gasp, too. They're sensitive. Usually, a hybrid will never let another person touch their ears. It's one of the most vulnerable spots they have, after all and their instincts forbid taking the risk of that vulnerability being used against them. But Mark has uncovered every part of Taeyong a thousand times already. He is the only one who can touch. And Taeyong is the only one who can touch _him_ in return.

"You want me pup?" Mark whispers gently, "Want your alpha?"

"Please..." If it wasn't so silent, he wouldn't have heard the word at all.

Pressing another kiss to Taeyong's lips, he mutters: "Hand me the lube. It's over there, behind the pillow."

Pushing pillows and blankets out of the way, Taeyong digs for the bottle, while Mark watches him. He loves just looking at the other like this; watching his sharp features and lean muscles work and studying the tiny habits he has developed over time. Like the small pout, when he concentrates, or the twitch of his ears, whenever Mark makes a sound.

He lets Taeyong take his pants and shirt off for him, because for now, it's the only thing he can do. Meanwhile, Mark covers his own fingers in a generous drizzle of lube. It's better like this – if he does it – because Taeyong's claws are too long and sharp to make it work. Mark doesn't mind, this way he can enjoy hunting his pleasure easily, while Taeyong is eager to press even more of it into his skin with kisses.

"Take your collar off." He says, watching Taeyong comply quickly.

Looking at Taeyong's body, feels like looking at a map. There are scars and bumps everywhere, some which Taeyong refuses to explain entirely. Mark knows them all by heart and has traced every one of them with his fingers, lips and tongue. Lip between his teeth, Mark pushes the first finger into himself and lets his head fall back against the mattress. Taeyong is there quickly and nibbles at his neck some more. Just like Mark knows all of Taeyong's scars, Taeyong knows all of his weakspots. Could break him down within seconds, even if he never intents to.

Even more so, when he begins trailing kisses down Mark's chest and stomach, with an unmistakable path. A path, he has taken so often, they didn't bother counting anymore. It's hard for Taeyong to keep his canines out of the mix, but Mark doesn't notice it much, when his warm lips wrap around him. He never goes down completely, but just with his tongue and the eagerness in his movements, Taeyong could draw him to his climax. However, tonight they have different plans, so he stays calm enough to sate Mark through the discomfort of stretching himself. Like this, he has no trouble adding a second finger and a third finger.

"I'm almost ready pup, how do you want me?" Mark asks and he can feel it, in the way Taeyong's fingers tighten around his thighs, how much the question gets to him. Technically, it's his _alpha_ submitting to him. It's not for power or control though and only a pleasure that is granted temporarily. The only way Mark can fully show him trust and comfort in a way that he thinks could be enough.

Pulling off Mark's length, Taeyong nudges at his thigh, "On your stomach."

 _Ah, yeah..._ Mark isn't surprised. Taking him from behind has always been Taeyong's favourite, but not in a sense of dominating him. He knows that it steadies the other. That it makes him feel stronger and bigger, in comparison to Mark. A proof that he is able to defend Mark, no matter what dangers may come their way. That he can take care of Mark and make him feel good, unlike anyone else. And Mark is always happy to make himself a little smaller, just so Taeyong feels like he can take on the responsibilty he has. 

Removing his finger from himself, Mark shuffles and adjusts into their agreed position. He feels exposed, with his chest pressing into the mattress and his ass up. Taeyong doesn't make a secret out of the fact that he wants to enjoy this moment as thoroughly as he can, pressing a hand against Mark's shoulderblade, to push him even harder against the mattress.

They forgo the condom. Have begun to do so an eternity ago, when Taeyong had marked him and chosen him as his mate for the first time. It's raw and real, to feel each other skin on skin, all the way. In secrecy, Mark had only waited for the moment they would agree on staying together, from the first time they fucked, just for the sensation of Taeyong's bare cock sliding against his walls. Something he dives into everytime, even now, as Taeyong's lubed up tip prods at his rim and he mewls.

"Put it in, god, please put it in." He whispers, fraying a little at the edges.

Mark likes to think he is a very collected person. They have gotten themselves in breakneck situations more often than not, yet he had always been the one to keep a clear head and save them with a plan. Even when people provoke him – an almost daily occurance – Mark never lets it get to him and instead, keeps his cold demeanor all the way.

The only time when he falls apart is when he is like this with Taeyong. Sometimes, he _needs_ to fall apart, though. Needs to be put together in a new way, so he can relax and find back to himself. It's not good to be so ice-cold all the time and over time, it had even managed to make him a colder person in general. Taeyong had never liked it – this side of him – but he knew that it was necessary. Now, though, Mark doesn't feel like he has to keep his cool and show a strong facade. He can be needy, can cry, can laugh, can beg and love as much as he wants, because Taeyong will never use that against him.

When Taeyong's length pushes into him, he lets out a desperate sigh. The claws on his hips dig a little deeper into the soft flesh there and Mark's hands fist the sheets a little tighter. Taeyong never takes much time when he enters Mark like this. On instinct, he assumes, because Taeyong's subconscious expects an omega – a body that is made to take him easy and fast. But Mark doesn't mind. He is stretched out enough and the slight sting is inevitable anyways.

What he can never get used to, is the way his breath seems to leave him. Head falling between his shoulders, he gasps, trying to fill the air that is being pushed out of him back into his lungs. Taeyong doesn't give him a chance to, his hips drawing back, as soon as his pelvis has made contact with Mark's ass. They come back in harsh and fast, because Taeyong is always _so impatient._ And on top of that, Mark knows he doesn't really sound like he wants Taeyong to slow down.

"Fu-Fuck y-yes, pup. Just like that." He whines, thighs spreading a little further, "Feel so good inside of me. Such a big cock."

The words earn him a low moan and a trail of kisses to his back. Mark knows that Taeyong loves it when he speaks. It doesn't even matter what he says, at some point, just that Taeyong can hear him. Of course, it always pays off the most for them both, when it's praise. Filthy praise, loving praise, gentle praise. Tiny, little gifts for Taeyong's soul that Mark is all too happy to give.

A pair of hands move to the sides of his head, clawing at the sheets in a similar fashion to Mark's own. Taeyong's body looms over him, all taut muscle and desirable skin. And Mark really feels small then, as Taeyong's moans ring right against his ear and he arches even harder, to meet his thrusts. The new angle has him see stars behind his eyelids. He moans into the bedsheets, trying to muffle the embarrassing volume of it, but he knows Taeyong hears him well enough to tell. It's all too good and Mark doesn't feel like resisting the temptation of touching himself anymore. The ridiculous amount of precum that has gathered on his dick is enough to slick his hand up and make the slide of his strokes easy.

A particularly hard thrust sends him forward a few centimetres and he barely manages to catch himself with his free hand, "Jesus, Tae." All he gets is an apologetic nibble on his ear, before Taeyong picks up his thrusts again, "It's fine pup, give it to me. Go a little harder, you're doing so well."

This time, Taeyong makes sure to hold him in place, when he thrusts into him with more force. The slapping sounds of their colliding hips are almost loud enough to match their moans.

When Taeyong begins pressing kisses into his neck, Mark knows he must be close. It's a telltale sign of an approaching climax: the closer Taeyong gets to his mark, the closer he is to his orgasm. Somehow things always end up with Taeyong's teeth in his neck and his cum fucked into his ass and Mark has learned to read the signs.

"Are you close pup?" Mark squeezes out between high-pitched moans.

Another nip at his jaw, "Yeah."

"Me too." He whispers, tugging a little faster at his leaking cock, "Are you gonna fill me up well, hm? Fill me, until I'm stuffed and leaking?"

Taeyong doesn't say anything, but the extra-harsh thrust he delivers right into Mark's prostate is answer enough. By now, he is at a point, where his voice has given in. Just like Taeyong has his giveaways on how close his orgasm is, Mark's voice always leaves him when he is really close. All there is left are little mewls and gasps that sound pathetic even in his own ears. He knows Taeyong loves them. Loves it when he is rendered brainless with pleasure and begging for more through slurred words and the tugging of his hands. However, just like in the ring, Taeyong is merciless in bed. Instead of allowing Mark a break, or a moment to collect his breath, he picks up an extra notch.

It's as if he could grasp it, "D-Don't stop! Please, please Tae, don't stop!"

And they both know, Taeyong would never be so cruel as to slow down in that moment, unless Mark asked him to. As his prostate is being hammered and Mark's hand tightens around himself, he finds his orgasm with a shout into the mattress. His vision blurs, electricity pulling his muscles taut and setting every fibre of his body on fire. Like waves crashing above his head and putting him under, so deep, he doesn't even really notice Taeyong's teeth breaking the skin on his neck and clamping hard. He does, however, feel the sparks of oversensitivity, as Taeyong fucks him through it all, until finally, the warmth of cum strikes against Mark's walls. A handful of last, weak thrusts meet his ass, trying to fuck Taeyong's cum as deep into him as it will go. Then, Taeyong pulls out, leaving Mark feeling empty and a little cold.

Not for long, though. He is turned on his back gently and Taeyong is all over him like a blanket of enthusiasm and adoration. Even as Mark's slack lips have nothing to give back, Taeyong keeps kissing him all over the expanse of his face, until he dissolves into giggles. The older's canine's flash as he gives back the first real smile of the day. Mark wishes he could burn it into his heart, right there, where he can always remember it just the way he sees it now. Instead, he does the next best thing and runs his fingers through Taeyong's hair. With his shaking thighs, he pulls the man closer on top of him and Taeyong happily lies down on top of him.

"That was good." Mark praises him again, "You tired?"

Taeyong shakes his head, but the way his eyelids seem to weigh a kilo give him away. Mark laughs gently, running a thumb over Taeyong's cheek. He always wants to stay awake and keep up with Mark's crazy sleeping schedule, but he guesses that's only possible for someone who has demons keeping him awake. Honestly though, Mark prefers if Taeyong sleeps the day away, in opposition to having the company at the dead of night. Even if sometimes, he wakes up with a sweat and torn bedsheets, still exhausted from his nightmares, there are also times when he sleeps like a baby. Snoring so quietly, it's almost inaudible and his limbs twitching as he dreams about worlds with fewer things to worry about.

Often those are the nights where Mark lies in his arms, until he falls asleep.

Shifting a little, Mark starts to get aware of the drying cum squished between them and the extra load, trickling down his thighs, "Wait, pup. Let me get cleaned up."

He doesn't get to lift from the bed though, because Taeyong's palm on his chest keeps him pinned where he is. Smiling to himself again, Mark stays where he is and watches Taeyong pad over to the kitchen. His eyes linger as long as they can on his naked frame, trying to make sense of how he could ever have been so lucky. Taeyong runs a hand through his hair, as he tries to stay awake and find their baby-wipes. Mark's breath hitches.

He is well aware of the fact that half of the offers he gets for Taeyong aren't in any way related to his abilities. Taeyong is breath-taking at what feels like every moment under the sun and moon. So unrealistically handsome, despite his scars and the exhaustion on his face. Yet, here he is, sticking with Mark, instead of fucking someone else, with a big house and fresh food and luxury – things Mark knows he will never be able to provide. He is here and never leaves room for doubt, about whether he will stay. 

When Taeyong comes back, baby-wipes in his hands, he tilts his head at Mark. The internal turmoil he is feeling must show on his face, but he knows Taeyong gets overwhelmed when he spills his guts too much.

"Come here, handsome." He reaches a hand out and Taeyong is there in no second.

There is nothing to say, when Taeyong wipes him clean, still refusing to let Mark do any of the work. He knows that this is important to the hybrid, since he can't stretch him himself, this is the next best thing he can contribute. Mark doesn't care much about which of them fingers him open, but this... this is so much better when Taeyong does it. Sighing in happiness, he follows all of Taeyong's gentle pushes and pull, until all the cum has been cleaned from him and the wipe is discarded into the trash.

Taeyong arranges them eagerly and Mark lets him, because he doesn't have anything to do until 4 a.m. anyways. The other is warm and comforting against his back, the steady weight that keeps Mark grounded, even in the eye of a tornado. His fingers tangle with Taeyongs over his stomach and a moment later, their thickest blanket covers them.

Mark presses back, closer against his lover. Taeyong squeezes him tight in return. A couple of soft kisses find the back of his head and Mark allows himself a few minutes of not worrying about anything. An expensive luxury, but he can afford it once in a blue moon, thanks to Taeyong.

"I'm glad you're okay." He whispers, stroking over Taeyong's forearm with his free hand, "I got scared today. This guy was so large and Doyoung... Doyoung was so sure about himself." The arms around him wrap a little tighter, "I'm sorry... I know you don't want me to worry. I did believe that you could do it every minute of the fight, but–... when you're down there, behind that fence and fighting for your life, I feel like I can't protect you."

"You don't have to protect me." It's the longest sentence Taeyong has said all day and Mark's heart soars at the fact that it had to be _this._

"Yes I do." inhaling a deep lungful of Taeyong's scent, Mark tries not to fall apart, "I have to protect you as much as you protect me. I know the world taught you that your life is worth less than a human's life. But that's bullshit." Before he can stop himself, he sniffles, "You're worth more than anything and anyone I've ever met, including me."

The warmth leaves his back and seconds later, Taeyong is back on top of him. There is a little frown between his brows, but Mark has a hard time taking him serious, when he looks so cute with his pouted lips. Mark flushes deep, when Taeyong's hands pin his wrists into the mattress.

He makes sure their eyes are locked, before he speaks, "Don't say that."

"But it's true." Mark insists, "You're everything that I have left. Everything that gives my days any meaning, besides survival."

Taeyong looks at him, his dog-ears twitching in light irritation, before he huffs, "You're the same." _to me._

He could push back more, but Taeyong can only take so much. It's hard for him to read his own emotions and often times, he ends up getting frustrated at himself and everyone else. So, Mark gives in – tries to tell himself that Taeyong is right – and untangles his wrists, to pull the older down to kiss him. Taeyong tenses, a little confused. Mark's actions might not make a lot of sense to him, but he kisses back regardless. Takes over naturally and plunges his tongue into Mark's mouth, to lick all the doubt from his lips. Mark lets it happen. Sighs into the kiss and doesn't mention it, when Taeyong's cock twitches a little against his thigh, upon scratching at the base of his hybrid-ears.

They pull apart, only after their heartbeats have syncronized perfectly.

"Okay." His own voice sounds deafening, even as it is a mere whisper, "You're right. I'm sorry." 

That seems to be enough for Taeyong, at least for the moment. He falls back into their old position and pulls Mark into his chest. The warm puffs of his breath tickle Mark's neck again and he stops the same thoughts from coming back this time. He is so loved. How could he think anything else? How could he think he deserves anything less, when Taeyong has always been so happy to hold him, to kiss him, to make love to him, to protect him with his _life._

It's egoistic and stupid, to think that Taeyong only does this, because society taught him to value Mark's kind more. When he does it out of unadulterated and selfless love and nothing else.

"I love you." He whispers, "So much."

Taeyong kisses the bitemark on his shoulder. _I love you, too._

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/putputpotato) | [Ig](https://www.instagram.com/putputpotato_xo) | [Tumblr](https://midnight-writ3r.tumblr.com/) –> Feel free to text me! (mostly active on TWT at the moment) 
> 
> So I started making art and a concept for this AU almost half a year ago, but only got around to actually writing it down now haha! Of course, I was mainly inspired by Markyong´s amazing Mad Dog MV, but music and past story idea-scrambles I had influenced the setting, too. I hope you liked it, it´s a little different from my usual stuff :'D 
> 
> How have you been guys?? Are you pushing through quarantine? Have you picked up any new hobbies or indulged in old ones a little more? :3 I hope dumb online school isn´t keeping you on your toes. I feel like have online classes is way more tiring than in-person classes, idk might just be me :// 
> 
> Also, I´m trying to build a bit more of a community of writers and readers on TWT, so if you´re either, feel free to send me a text, I´d love to make some friends! :') <3 
> 
> Until next time (Mandatory Monster Measures update, yaaay!), I hope you´ll stay safe and have an amazing time!! I love youuuu!! <3<3


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